


Only Sam

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abusive John Winchester, Dom Dean Winchester, Dom/sub Play, Homophobic John Winchester, Jealous Castiel, M/M, Sam smells of vanilla, Sub Sam Winchester, one-sided destiel - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-27
Updated: 2015-06-01
Packaged: 2018-04-01 12:33:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4019869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It starts with 'Sam' and spirals out of control from there. Wincest.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Talking Out Loud

**Author's Note:**

> This started as a random fluffy fanfic. Then I stayed up until past 6am typing it. Oops. It's ended up being a mix of comedy and general Wincest-y stuff. 
> 
> If you don't ship Wincest, don't read this, because that's basically all it is!
> 
> And yes, it's homophobic!John. And most of the fanfic is made up of talking.

Chapter 1

"Sam?"  
"What is it?"  
"I've been thinking."  
"What about?"  
"About … us."  
"Us?"  
"Remember … when we were kids? Remember when I was six, and you were two, and you said you loved me?"  
"I don't really remember that."  
"I remember it. At the time, I said, 'I love you too, Sammy.' I mean, we were both kids."  
*  
"You said it again, when you were seven and I was eleven."  
"Did I?"  
"Yeah. And I told you that we can't feel that way for each other. The love between mom and dad was different to the love between us."  
"I guess."  
"Neither of us understood it then."  
*  
"Remember when you last said it?"  
"No."  
"I was eighteen. You were fourteen. Do you remember what I said?"  
"… I don't think so."  
"I said, 'I love you too, Sammy, but we can't have that'."  
*  
"Why not?"  
"What?"  
"Why can't we have that?"  
"Sam?"  
Sam's sheets rustled. Dean felt the edge of his bed dip down as Sam leaned on it. Then Sam spoke again, his voice soft.  
"If we want it … why not have it? If nobody knows, nobody can stop us."  
"Sammy …"  
"Nobody knows," Sam repeated, and his voice was close to Dean's ear, warm and inviting. Dean felt his heart beat faster. He felt the covers lift, felt Sam's weight settle by his. Hesitant, Dean reached out, finding Sam. He wrapped his arms around his brother. Dean pulled Sam close until they were sharing body heat. The sheets were tangled around their legs.  
"Nobody?" Dean asked in a whisper.  
"Nobody," Sam breathed. He was so close that Dean could feel his quickened heartbeat and …  
"Sammy, you're shaking," he murmured. Sam exhaled a soft laugh.  
"I never thought you …" he began before trailing off. Dean felt Sam's hands searching until they found his. Sam laced his fingers with Dean's and Dean tightened his grip, as if he and Sam were going to be pulled apart. They held their hands between their chests as they lay on their sides, breathing slowly into the darkness. Dean felt Sam's heartbeat falling back to a regular rhythm.  
"Sammy?" he said softly. He could see his brother's face. Sam's eyes were closed and his breathing was steady and slow. Feeling almost as if it was wrong, Dean let go of one of Sam's hands and reached round his brother's shoulders, pulling him close. Sam's chest rested against Dean's. Under Dean's free hand, Sam's side rose and fell slowly. His grip was looser but didn't let go of Dean's hand, their fingers staying locked together.  
Dean brought Sam's hand up to his lips and kissed it gently. He would protect his brother, and their love. No matter how wrong. 

The following night, Sam shared a bed with Dean again. It was unspoken, unbidden. It was both their unconscious needs that drew Sam in to lie beside his brother again.  
"Can I ask you something?"  
Sam spoke softly out of the darkness. Both brothers lay on their backs, gazing up at the ceiling. Dean turned his head to look at where Sam was.  
"Sure."  
"How long have you known?"  
"Known what, Sammy?"  
"About us. About your feelings."  
"Since forever."  
"Forever?"  
"Since I was old enough to understand my feelings, I knew what I felt for you was different to what I should be feeling."  
"Did Dad know?"  
"I never told him. But he could tell from the way I looked at you."  
"How do you know he knew?"  
"After you left to Stanford, he spoke to me."  
"What did he say?"  
"He told me to never - ever - think of you this way. He said it was wrong. He said that the look in my eyes when I was looking at you …"  
"What?"  
"He said it made him sick. He said, in his words, 'Dean, the way you look at Sam disgusts me. He's a man like you'. He said it made him ashamed to know that his son was- was a f…"  
"He called you that?"  
"I was stunned when he did. But, Sammy, that wasn't all he said to me. I think he wanted an excuse to vent his anger over Mom, and he used me - us - as the excuse."  
"I'm sorry, Dean."  
Silence.  
"Dean, talk to me. What else did he say to you?"  
"He … he ordered me to never see you again. He said that I would corrupt you, make you into 'something like me'. He told me that I would poison your mind."  
"Dad said that to you?"  
"Yeah. As if the way my affections are aimed make me a disease, or something less human. It made me realize how narrow-minded he is."  
"Was that all he cared about?"  
"No, he said more to me. He shouted more, and would corner me so I couldn't escape, and it made me start to hate myself. The things he was saying to me … it was if I was starting to agree with him."  
"What do you mean?"  
"He was saying things like, 'it's not right to like another man, especially Sam. He's your brother, and if you go near him ever again, I will kill you'. And I started thinking that he was right. That there was something wrong with me. Something wrong with my head for having feelings like that."  
"I don't know what to say. I'm sorry he treated you that way, Dean, I didn't know."  
"It's not your fault. But he broke me, Sam. I've kept it bottled up for so long. Tried to be the perfect son to him- no, not a son. The perfect soldier. I've been hiding my feelings with booze and one night stands. But nobody has ever meant much, and I've never really felt anything."  
"What about Lisa? And Cassie?"  
"Sure, I liked them. But the real reason was that my feelings for them distracted me from what I felt the strongest towards."  
"Which was?"  
"You."  
"Me?"  
"You, Sammy. When Dad went missing, I knew what I had to do. I had to tell you because I needed your help. It was the hardest thing for me to do, though. You were with Jess. I thought you didn't feel the same way. And after all the times Dad told me to never go near you … Eventually, I shoved that aside. Swallowed my feelings, pushed them deep down inside of me. I knew I needed your help despite everything else."  
"I didn't know Dad was so … so prejudiced."  
"Believe me, neither did I. I think the thing he found hardest to accept was how I'm into girls, which is acceptable to him, but also dudes, which isn't. He would often say to me: 'Dean, real men don't like other men. Are you a real man?' and I'd have to reply 'Yes, sir'. And he'd say, 'no, you're not, you're less than a man', or 'your brother is a man, so why in the world would you ever have feelings towards him?'"  
"That's … awful."  
"He drilled it into me. Day after day after day. Making sure I never even mentioned you. He'd never say your name. He only ever referred to you as my 'brother', to make my feelings for you seem worse."  
"I can't believe …"  
"Some days, I'd think it was okay. That maybe, that day, he wouldn't get mad. We'd be working on a case like normal. It'd get until about midday when I'd slip up and accidentally mention you. He'd just throw whatever he was holding, either at me or the wall, and start telling me how sick I am in the head, how I can never talk about you. It was practically a routine. I was going crazy."  
Dean's voice cracked as he was speaking.  
Sam rolled onto his side and saw the hurt in Dean's eyes. He laid a hand on his older brother's arm in reassurance.  
"Hey, it's okay."  
After a few seconds, Sam rolled back onto his back and they were silent. Dean was the first to speak.  
"When did you know?"  
"Hm?"  
"When did you realize about us, about your feelings?"  
"Oh. After I went to Stanford, I noticed how empty I felt. None of my friends could fill the gap. I hoped Jess would. For a while, she did. I was happy and the emptiness was filled."  
"And?"  
"Then you showed up, telling me Dad was gone. It was then that I felt whole. Jess hadn't filled the emptiness … she was more like a cap. Something to hide it, cover it, as if it wasn't there. When I saw you, I knew why I felt so empty. With you again, I felt whole for the first time in years."  
"But you were so distant back then. You hated me."  
"I was scared, Dean. I didn't know if you felt the same way. From the start I knew that anything between us was wrong. I mean, we're brothers. I think Jess could tell."  
"Tell what?"  
"Us."  
"What?"  
"The way I spoke about you. The way I acted around her. There was something in her eye … I think she could kind of tell how I felt about you and her separately."  
"At least she was accepting. She didn't interfere or tell you how wrong it was."  
"Bobby might know."  
"Bobby?"  
"About my feelings. You were out tending to the Impala and I was indoors with Bobby. I was doing research. He looked at me and said, 'Kid, when are you going to act?'"  
"Just that?"  
"No. I asked him what he meant and he gave me a knowing look. He told me that 'love is love' and then that was it. I think he knew all along, even though I pretended not to understand. I don't think I fooled him."  
"When was that?"  
"About two years ago."  
"Two years? You've kept it hidden well."  
"Now it's all out."  
"So it's official, is it?"  
Dean smiled as Sam punched his arm. After a comfortable few minutes of silence, Sam spoke.  
"Nobody can know about us. Not Cas. Not Ellen or Jo. We can't even tell Bobby that he was right, okay? Nobody."  
"Well, then we're not exactly official, are we?"  
As Dean spoke, Sam rolled onto his side with an innocent look on his face that Dean couldn't resist. It reminded him when he had turned up, five years ago, and Sam had been oh-so surprised by his sudden appearance.  
Dean returned to the present. They were closer than before, facing each other now.  
Sam smelled like freshly washed cotton and vanilla. Dean closed his eyes, memorizing the scent.  
"You smell nice, Sammy," he said quietly. "You smell clean."  
"You smell of gunpowder and old leather," Sam answered dryly. His eyes were unreadable as he looked at Dean. Dean's eyes traveled over Sam's face, moving down from his eyes.  
"Close your eyes, Sam," he whispered. Sam closed his eyes. Dean swallowed. He didn't know if he could do this. He wanted to; it was his desire to. But it had been drilled into him- that this was wrong. John's disappointed face was burned into his mind. No, he had to forget his father. Break away from the past.  
Dean slid his left hand around the back of Sam's neck and could feel his brother's pulse. It was fast, faster than Dean's own.  
Then he leaned in and pressed his lips against Sam's.  
Sam's lips were surprisingly soft. Dean noticed that he didn't stiffen at the kiss; he was relaxed and accepting. But then John's angry voice broke into Dean's head and he broke away. Sam's eyes opened slightly. He looked up at Dean, saw the horror in his eyes.  
"Forget him," Sam said, almost pleading. His voice broke through the veil and Dean pushed John to the back of his mind. He pulled Sam gently towards himself, and Sam closed his eyes again. Dean kissed Sam again, except this time the kiss was deeper. He found that Sam had a sweet taste, almost like the vanilla scent of his hair. Dean was drowning in the taste as he slid his other hand around the back of Sam's neck. His left hand rested on the back of Sam's head, his fingers curling in the thick dark hair.  
The sweet scent of his brother was dizzying, the vanilla clouding Dean's thoughts. It was more intoxicating than the strongest liquor Dean had ever had. The feeling of Sam's lips against his own sent a shiver down Dean's spine and he wanted the moment to last forever.  
But they had to break apart. Sam was panting slightly, his eyes almost glowing in the darkness as he looked at his brother again.  
For so many years, Dean had longed for this, and the longing had built up inside of him. Now, his longing was rushing out as he pulled Sam against him, kissed his brother more roughly, curled his hand around Sam's hair tighter. Nobody could ever have fulfilled Dean's need. Not Cassie, not Lisa, not anyone he had ever been with.  
Only Sam.  
Only his brother.  
But then Sam let out a soft groan, and Dean pulled away. His heart thudded.  
"Oh, god. Did I hurt you?"  
"No, it's …" Sam replied, breathing slowly. "It's fine. It's just been so long, and I'm so happy, and-"  
Sam was interrupted as Dean kissed him for the third time. Dean slid his right hand to rest against Sam's back as he moved his mouth from Sam's lips to his neck. He wanted to leave evidence, mark his territory. Show that Sam belonged to someone. Sam gave a soft whimper of something other than pain as his brother nipped the skin at his throat. Dean made his marks before moving back up to kiss Sam again.  
Half an hour later, Sam pushed Dean's face away, complaining that his lips were getting chapped. Dean grinned, almost in triumph. They lay back on their separate sides of the bed, as if nothing had happened. Dean could see Sam's fingers touching his neck gingerly.  
"I'm not going to be able to leave this room for days," Sam muttered, his hand dropping back to his side. Dean snorted.  
"Wear a scarf. Or makeup," he suggested, although he knew it wouldn't hide the marks.  
"Dean, that wouldn't work."  
"I know."  
"Screw you."  
"I'd rather the other way around."  
"You- what?"  
Sam's sputter of shock at Dean's retort made Dean laugh out loud.  
"Sammy, it's just a joke. But I wish I could see the look on your face, it's probably priceless."  
"As I said before, screw you," Sam shot back, elbowing Dean's arm. Dean closed his eyes, remembering the sweet taste of Sam's mouth.  
"Sammy?"  
"Yeah?"  
"Thanks."  
"For what?"  
"For being you. For understanding. For helping me overcome Dad."  
"It's nothing."  
"Mm."  
"Hey, Dean?"  
"Fire away."  
"Thanks for this … whatever this was. Whether it's a one-off or not, thank you."  
"Sure."  
"That doesn't make sense."  
"Shut up."  
"Okay."  
"… Sam?"  
"What?"  
"How about I get you some Chapstick at some point?"  
Dean laughed as Sam hit him in the arm. He'd remember this night forever.  
They fell asleep in each other's embrace.


	2. Up Against The Wall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean discovers Sam's little secret.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was fun to write.

Chapter 2

"Oh, man."  
Dean woke at midday to Sam's voice. He looked up blearily to see Sam was gone and the bed was cold.  
"Sam?" Dean called, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. The bathroom door opened and Sam walked out with a half-humiliated, half-exasperated expression. Dean raised his eyebrows and whistled appreciatively as he saw a few red and purple marks on Sam's neck and throat. Dean sucked in air through his teeth.  
"Yeah, sorry about them. They ain't going for a few days. Maybe a week."  
Sam rubbed the back of his neck, sighing. He sat down at the motel room table with his laptop and looked pointedly at Dean.  
"If I need anything, you'll have to get it for me, because I'm not going out looking like this," he said in an accusatory tone. Dean held up his hands in defense.  
"Alright, alright. Let me see, what do you need? Coffee, free WiFi, hair products, your favorite hot dude magazine-"  
"Dean!"  
"Hey, I don't know if you-"  
"Just shut up already and go get me a coffee."  
Dean assumed Sam was hiding his embarrassment with anger.  
"Okay, Little Miss Moody," Dean replied as he grabbed his jacket and the Impala keys. "I'll go get your coffee and your magazine."  
Sam gave him a warning look and Dean shut up. He went to the door.  
"Get me something for these marks, too," Sam shouted as Dean opened the door.  
"They're called hickeys, Sammy," Dean answered with a grin on his face. "You've got 'em, may as well call them what they are."  
He closed the door behind him, imagining the priceless expression on Sam's face. Dean soon arrived at the mall. He knew that he needed good quality coffee to make his brother happy, plus he was looking for some makeup for Sam's neck. It didn't take long for Dean to find a cosmetics store. He wandered the aisles, slightly confused about most of the products. He picked up a container of liquid foundation and compared the color to his skin.  
"Don't get why people care so much about this stuff," he muttered, but he bought the foundation along with some Chapstick, ignoring the weird look the girl behind the cash register gave him. Next, Dean went to find a magazine. He knew it would probably annoy Sam more but he wanted to do it anyway. Scouring the racks of 'hot-dude'-centric magazines, Dean picked out one which he hoped would have a funny effect. He quickly flipped through it to see if was good enough before averting his eyes.  
"Jesus, I didn't want to see that."  
All Dean needed now was coffee for Sam. At the coffee shop, he got a coffee the way Sam liked it, and also bought a tub of fresh salad.  
"I know how much you like your rabbit food," Dean said, as if he was speaking to Sam, as he walked back to the Impala whilst checking he had all his goods. He arrived back at three in the afternoon.  
"You okay?" he called out as he came back into the room, dumping his jacket and the keys on a table. Sam looked up from where he was sitting with the laptop. His collar was turned up, but his expression was less annoyed. He gratefully accepted the salad and coffee.  
"Got you some reading material too," Dean added. He opened the magazine to a random page and held it out to Sam, who registered what he was looking at and yelled "Dean!" as he hit the magazine from Dean's hands. As his brother laughed for a minute solid, Sam went back to his research, fuming.  
"I'm sorry, man," Dean admitted when he was done laughing. He offered the foundation and Chapstick as compensation. Sam took them and went back into the bathroom. He emerged a few minutes later and Dean could only see the marks faintly.  
"Aw," he commented, "they didn't look too bad on you."  
"Shut up."  
The afternoon continued in a similar way. Sam continued doing research and Dean now and again threw a neck-related comment his way that made Sam more and more irritated. It was nighttime when Sam closed his laptop. Bending, he picked up the magazine and threw it at Dean.  
"You can have that. I'm going to bed."  
"Oh, come on, don't be like that."  
"Dean, you've spent the whole day annoying me, you're just going to make it worse."  
"Oh, really?"  
Sam, who had been about to get back into his own bed rather than Dean's, stood up straight again. There was a dangerous glint in Dean's eye he didn't like.  
"Yes, really," Sam snapped. Dean took a few steps closer until he was standing directly opposite Sam, about a foot away. Dean crossed his arms. If he hadn't been smiling, amused, Sam might have been scared.  
"Dean, whatever you're planning, I'm not in the mood."  
"You were yesterday."  
"Yeah. Yesterday. Today's different because I haven't been able to leave this stupid room!"  
"Hey, you could have. It's your own choice not to-"  
"You made these marks on my neck," Sam interjected angrily, jabbing his finger at his neck.  
"You let me make them," Dean shot back smoothly.  
"I didn't know they'd be so obvious!"  
"They're not so bad with the makeup on them."  
"How long until they fade?"  
"I don't know. A few days, maybe up to a week."  
"Exactly! I'm not staying in his room for days, let alone a week."  
"Why not?"  
"Because it's boring, Dean! I have nothing to do except research cases we can't even go on, because of these marks."  
"You're bored because there's nothing to do?"  
"Yes, that's what I just-"  
"I can stop it from being boring."  
There was an audible change in Dean's voice, from teasing to serious. Sam heard it and stopped talking. He crossed his arms, like Dean had done before.  
"Don't go all suave on me."  
"I prefer the term sexy."  
"Dean, if you're suggesting something, I'm-"  
"Not in the mood?" Dean finished for him, his eyes glittering. Sam swallowed.  
"Exactly. So I'd rather you leave me alone and don't bother me."  
"But isn't that boring?"  
"Dean, stop. Please. This isn't funny anymore. You're not you."  
"I am me, Sammy. It's just been so long and I've wanted this for longer, and now you're pushing me away."  
"Don't do this, Dean. I'm tired and you've irritated me and I just want to go to sleep."  
"You were different yesterday. You thanked me yesterday."  
"Don't blackmail me with stuff I said while I was half asleep."  
"Half asleep? Don't you mean love drunk?"  
"Dean-"  
"I think you're just playing hard to get."  
"I mean it-"  
"So do I. You want this, but you're either too scared to admit it to yourself …" Dean stepped closer to Sam, who didn't move or speak. "… Or you want to see if I actually want this enough too."  
"You keep telling yourself that."  
"Oh, I will, because it's the truth, isn't it?"  
"No."  
"Lie."  
"Dean!"  
"Sam!"  
"Don't be childish, Dean. I'm serious. How many times do I need to tell you? I'm not in the goddamn mo-"  
Dean grabbed Sam's upper arms and slammed him back against the wall. Startled, Sam had nothing to say. Dean leaned close to his brother.  
"You want this," he whispered silkily.  
"Let me go."  
"Admit it."  
"Dean, that hurts-"  
"Don't lie, Sam. Your pupils are dilated. Your heart's beating fast. You're not fighting me."  
"Dean, you're scaring me."  
"Stop lying to yourself."  
"Let me go."  
"Admit it."  
"Let me go!"  
"Only if you admit it."  
"Admit what?"  
"That you want this. That this was your plan all along. Because you're so desperate for this."  
"Dean, don't be stupid. Why would I want you hurting me?"  
"I don't know. Maybe you're into that."  
"I'm not."  
"You sure?"  
"Let me go."  
"You've said that four times and it hasn't worked. Want to try a fifth time?"  
Sam glared at him in silence.  
"It's okay to admit it, Sammy. Or maybe you're too scared to."  
"Is this what you did to Cassie?"  
"What?"  
"And Lisa? And God knows how many other poor souls?"  
"No."  
"Maybe this is something you're into, Dean. Forcing people into things."  
"Don't go there, Sam."  
"Then why are you doing this?"  
"I'm trying to get you to tell the truth. It's obvious that you want this. You're just playing hard to get."  
"No."  
"Yes, you are."  
"No, I'm not!"  
Dean grabbed Sam's wrists and pressed them against the wall around Sam's head. He leaned in closer.  
"I can see it in your eyes."  
"That hurts."  
"What?"  
"Your hands on my wrists. You're holding too tight."  
"Too tight? What, for your preference? Maybe you are into this, but it's getting a little too extreme?"  
"I didn't say that."  
"But you hinted it."  
"No, I didn't, you're delusional!"  
"Man, this is getting old," Dean said before kissing Sam roughly. The connection lasted a few seconds before Sam turned his head away. Dean grinned.  
"That wasn't so bad, was it?"  
"Stop it."  
"You tried not to kiss back. You almost managed, in fact."  
"I don't know what you're taking about."  
"You really love playing hard to get, don't you?"  
"Can you let me go?"  
"You haven't admitted it yet."  
"I have nothing to admit, Dean, so let me-"  
"Oh, you definitely do, Sammy. That look on your face screams 'punish me!'"  
"Dean, that's messed up."  
"You're telling me!"  
"No, I mean that I'm not screaming 'punish me'. I'm not admitting to anything. I just want you to let me go."  
In a quick movement, Dean held Sam's wrists above his head with one hand and used the other to tangle in Sam's hair.  
"You feel more in control?" Dean asked, almost mocking, before pulling Sam in for another kiss. This time, Sam didn't break away, and Dean was triumphant when he was the one to pull away first. He smiled at Sam.  
"A bit of a liar, aren't we, Sammy?"  
"I hate you."  
"Funny how you've been denying it this whole time, yet I'm the one who has to break it off."  
"I hate you, Dean."  
"I love you too, Sammy."  
"Can you let me go now?"  
"Do you want me to?"  
Silence. Dean grinned.  
"Aha! Caught you in another lie, buddy boy."  
"Shut up."  
"So you are into the whole dom-sub thing?"  
"Shut up!"  
"You've whined enough times, Sam. Aren't you gonna say it?"  
"Say what?"  
"The whole 'shut up and kiss me' cliché?"  
"No. That's stupid."  
"Too bad."  
His hand tangled tight in Sam's hair, Dean tugged his brother's head back. Eyes screwed shut and head twisted awkwardly back, Sam tried to wriggle free.  
"What are you doing?" he demanded.  
"Deciding if you should have more hickeys."  
"Don't, Dean. I'm serious about them. I don't want anymore."  
"Okay."  
Dean let go of his grip on Sam's hair and went back to holding each of Sam's wrists with a separate hand. Sam looked back at him with an challenging glare, as if daring Dean to move.  
"Well, I guess that's it," Dean sighed, starting to let go of Sam's arms. He was surprised as Sam wrapped his arms around his neck and fell with him onto the closest bed. Dean gave an impressed laugh, looking down at his brother.  
"Didn't know you had it in you, Sammy!" he exclaimed.  
"Shut up and kiss me," Sam retorted breathlessly. Dean's eyes widened and his eyebrow raised by a fraction.  
"I thought you said that was stupid?"  
"I know. I don't care. Didn't you hear me?"  
"Yes."  
"And will you do it?"  
Dean's face broke into a grin as he looked down at Sam.  
"Gladly."


	3. Vanilla

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An unexpected visitor puts Sam and Dean's hopes of keeping their relationship secret in jeopardy. (Also, idk why incest is actual illegal, but that's my reason in this fic.)

Chapter 3

When Dean awoke, he felt a warmth against him and a weight on his chest. Looking down, he saw Sam asleep next to him, arm flung out across Dean's chest. They were lying on top of the sheets. Sam's lips were more chapped, Dean noticed with some amusement. He slipped out of the bed as lightly as possible and managed to not disturb his sleeping brother. Checking the clock, he saw that it was midday again. He'd overslept a lot.  
Feeling suddenly overwhelmed, Dean walked straight to the motel door and to the parking lot beyond. He sat in the Impala, tilting his head back, eyes closed. He needed to think over what had happened in the past few days.  
He and Sam were an unofficial thing.  
It had to remain a secret.  
Oh, and his brother was into the whole wrist-to-wall thing.  
It confused the hell out of Dean. Sure, it was exactly what he wanted, but he couldn't help feeling guilty about Jess and Lisa and …  
John.  
Dean could imagine the burning disappointment in his father's eyes if he could see Sam and Dean now. He could hear what John would have said.  
"You're disgusting, Dean. You're sick. And now you've brought your brother into this. I told you to protect him, and look what you've done! You've made him into something like you. Do you see why you were never my favorite?"  
"I'm sorry," Dean said aloud to empty car. His father's voice was vivid to his ears; it was as if John was sat next to him in the Impala, talking to him.  
"Sorry doesn't mean a thing. Now you've made your brother sick too. Look what you've done! Now both of you are no longer better than the things we hunt. I'm disappointed in you, Dean. I never want to see you-"  
"Dean?"  
Dean opened his eyes and saw Sam, looking in at him outside the window. Dean opened the door and got out.  
"Sorry, Sam. I just wanted to clear my head."  
"I was looking for you. It's three in the afternoon."  
"Man, I must have fallen asleep," Dean muttered, surprised. He looked at Sam. "I was thinking about us."  
"Having second thoughts?"  
"What- no! No," Dean hurriedly replied, seeing Sam's hurt expression. "No, definitely not. There's nothing I wouldn't put in front of you."  
He leaned in to kiss Sam but his brother turned away.  
"Sam?"  
"Dean, we're in a public parking lot. I don't want anyone seeing us."  
Dean was scanning the area for people when he spotted a familiar car. He pointed.  
"Hey. Isn't that Bobby's?"  
As he spoke, a motel room door down the building opened and out walked the cap-wearing man himself. He noticed the Impala before he saw Sam and Dean. When he saw them, a smile crossed his bearded face.  
"Well, look who it is! The Winchesters. How are you boys doing?" he greeted, having crossed the parking lot to reach them.  
"We're good, thanks. When did you get here?" Dean asked.  
"Last night. I didn't see your car, but then again, it's pretty difficult to see at night."  
Dean noticed Sam's awkward surreptitious method of hiding his neck under his collar. Unfortunately, Bobby noticed too. He squinted at Sam.  
"Where'd you get those marks, Sam?" he asked. Sam looked momentarily dumbstruck and his eyes flicked to Dean for help.  
"We were working a case," Dean lied quickly. "Nasty hex bags."  
"They're the worst," Bobby agreed, and it seemed that they were in the clear, until Bobby's brow furrowed. He was standing close to Dean.  
"Boy," he asked, "why do you smell of vanilla?"  
"Oh, that," said Dean, swallowing nervously. He continued, "I'm trying out a new, um, aftershave."  
"Aftershave, huh?" Bobby said. "Smells like a shampoo I know. Nah, what would an old hunter like me know 'bout your fancy products?"  
"Haha, yeah," Dean replied awkwardly.  
"Can I come in for a drink? Only I just arrived and I got nothin'."  
"Sure," Dean smiled, ignoring the look of warning Sam gave him. "You go ahead to our room, the door's unlocked. We're just checking on Baby."  
When Bobby had walked out of earshot, Sam turned to Dean in alarm.  
"We can't keep lying. Sooner or later, he'll find out!"  
"Let's hope he doesn't," Dean said, pretending to be checking the trunk of the Impala. They both went back to the motel room, where Bobby was waiting. He gestured with his head at the one messed-up bed and the one neat bed.  
"You two share a bed or something?" he joked. Sam, realizing that Bobby hadn't guessed yet, made up a response.  
"No. I always make my bed. Dean's the one who never bothers."  
"Hey, what can I say, I'm a busy guy," Dean added with a forced grin. As Sam passed Dean to get Bobby a beer, Dean hissed, "nice save."  
It was when Sam bent down past Bobby to the refrigerator that Dean saw something change on Bobby's face.  
"You okay?" he asked.  
"Yeah, fine," Bobby replied. You looked at Sam. "Your lips are mighty chapped. You drinking enough?"  
"Not really. My lips are really dry cause of that," Sam answered quickly. He stood up, avoiding Bobby's eye, and pointed over to Dean.  
"Hey, there're no beers in here. Check under your bed, I know you stash them there."  
It was when Dean was handing a bottle to Bobby that it all fell apart.  
"I knew it," Bobby said suddenly.  
"What?" Dean asked. His heart thudded.  
"You. Your hand. That's the same goddamn vanilla smell. You know where I recognize it from?"  
"Bobby, what are you-"  
"His hair," Bobby cut across Dean, before pointing at Sam's hair. "Smelt it when he leaned past me. No wonder I thought it was shampoo. Aftershave, my ass."  
He paused. "Though why Sam's hair has been in your hands, I don't know. Have you boys been fighting?"  
"No, of course not," Sam answered automatically before realizing his mistake. Fighting was the one excuse they could have used to cover it up. But now Sam had blown their cover and there was only one other theory Bobby could think of. He looked between them.  
"Then what in the hell have you been doing?"  
Sam swallowed. Dean cleared his throat awkwardly. Bobby crossed his arms. Then it dawned on his face and he looked between them again, quicker.  
"You mean you boys …" he said, sounding surprised. It was then that Bobby began to laugh. Dean shot Sam a confused look, and his brother returned it with an even more confused look. Bobby explained.  
"Your daddy would be so mad if he knew. The amount of times he ranted to me about how he wanted Sam to turn out to be a 'real man', it's ironic how you've ended up like this."  
"You're not surprised?" Dean asked slowly.  
"Oh, I'm surprised as hell. But I can't say I didn't see it coming. It could see it in your eyes, every time you were in a room together. Like those goddamn teen movies that are everywhere today."  
"But we're brothers," Sam said weakly, unable to believe that Bobby was so accepting. The bearded man fixed Sam with a level gaze.  
"Boy, incest is only illegal because it reduces the gene pool."  
"Well, we aren't-" Dean began, looking alarmed at what Bobby could be insinuating. Bobby held up his hands.  
"I don't want to know what you boys get up to. That goddamn vanilla smell of Sam's is all over you, which is saying something. I'm assuming you also lied about his neck, mouth and the bed?"  
Sam and Dean looked at the floor. Bobby shook his head.  
"I gotta get going anyways. Nice catching up with you two."  
They walked out with him to his car. Before he drove away, Bobby wound down the window.  
"Get some Chapstick before someone else guesses," he suggested, eyes twinkling with amusement. Sam was smiling, embarrassed. As Bobby drove away, Dean called, "See you around!"  
They fell silent after he had gone. Dean scratched his nose absently before inhaling. Sure enough, there was the vanilla scent. He groaned. He needed to wash his hands and get Sam a different shampoo, one which was odorless.  
"He knows," Sam said, stunned. "He knows and he didn't care that much."  
"We can trust Bobby. He won't tell anyone," Dean said, equally stunned at the turn of events.  
"Hopefully."  
"Don't be a pessimist, Sammy."  
Dean used the opportunity to glance at Sam's lips. He snorted. "Dude, you really need to use that Chapstick."  
"Shut up," Sam said, laughing, pushing Dean's arm. He glanced at his phone. "Hey, it's almost five. Want an early meal?"  
"Sure. Takeaway?"  
"I was thinking more like, go to the mall. Have some off time."  
"Your whole week has been off time, man, cause of your neck."  
"And who's fault is that?"  
"My bad."  
"I was saying, Dean, that we deserve some off time. We've been hunting Lucifer for how long? I just think we need a small break, okay? When was the last time we went to a mall?"  
"I went to one yesterday," Dean answered dryly. Sam ignored his reply.  
"We can go now, try and catch it at an hour that isn't busy."  
"Sure. Let's go."  
When they arrived at the mall and the Impala was parked, they got out. For five o'clock in the evening, the air was warm and Sam felt at peace for the first time in years. They walked into the mall like normal people. He envied everyone who could do this regularly.  
"I can't believe going to the mall is a frigging luxury for us," Dean muttered, voicing Sam's exact thoughts. Looking over, he hid a smile. Sam had buttoned his shirt to the top and had turned his jacket collar up. The first store they went into, a bookstore, was instantly a comfort to the younger Winchester. Dean nudged Sam.  
"This is where you'd live if you got the chance, huh?" he joked. Sam smiled in good humor. He picked a book off a shelf, browsing absently in the non-fiction section.  
"Hey," Dean said in a stage whisper. Sam looked over. Dean was holding a book. He pointed at the cover. "Did you know there's such thing as fifty shades of grey? I didn't even know there were thirty."  
Then Dean opened the book and his eyebrows rose. He approached Sam and held out the book.  
"Read that bit there," he instructed, pointing at a bit of the page. Confused, Sam began to read before yelping and shutting the book on Dean's hand.  
"Dean! God, really?"  
The book was quickly closed and put back on the shelf. Dean rejoined Sam, wiping invisible dirt onto his pants.  
"Definitely not a book on different shades of colors. Man, I feel dirty reading that. That's like what would happen if they combined your magazine with an opposite gender version, and put it into graphic book form with a ton of 'oh my's."  
"Nice," Sam said sarcastically. The next store they went to was a grocery store. Sam sensibly stocked up on salt while Dean messed with a watermelon.  
"What if I dropped this?" he asked, balancing the large green melon on the top of his foot, half a meter off the floor. Dean grinned at Sam's paranoid expression before putting the melon back. This was followed by a quick trip to the cosmetic store for more foundation, where the cashier woman told a humiliated Sam that he needed to use Chapstick. They continued on until it was evening.  
"Food?" Dean wondered, looking up at Sam.  
"Food," Sam agreed. They went to a well-known burger joint, to Dean's insistence and Sam's protests. An hour later, fed and content for once, they arrived back at the motel. Dean crawled into bed and Sam crawled in next to him. Rolling over, Dean laid a hand on Sam's cheek and kissed him gently. They lay quietly, foreheads pressed together, content and tired. Then Dean pulled away.  
"Hey, Sammy?" he asked softly.  
"Yeah?" mumbled Sam, half asleep. An evil grin split Dean's face.  
"Oh, my," he said.  
Dean slept alone that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end made me laugh when I wrote it. It was about four-five in the morning. Oops. 
> 
> Chapter 4 hopefully coming soon!


	4. Sing For Me, Sammy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel is jealous of Sam and Dean. Meanwhile, Dean has to fight both his past and his rising desires.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got déjà vu for some reason while writing this chapter. Enjoy! (Idk when Ch5 will be posted but I've already started it)
> 
> Sorry for any OOCness, Cas doesn't get particularly jealous in the show. Obviously the one-sided Destiel is Cas to Dean. 
> 
> Also, the song used is 'I Found' by Amber Run, for the whole 'I found love where it wasn't supposed to be' thing. I don't own any of the songs used so far! 
> 
> And I also don't own Supernatural even though I wish I did XD

Chapter 4

The routine was similar and boring. Sam would wake hours earlier than Dean, and research cases. They still couldn't go hunting to Sam's insistence that the marks on his neck were 'still visible'. Dean often threatened to give him more if he continued to put off hunting.  
Truth be told, Sam was just desperate for a break from the constant fighting and pressure on them. There were others hunters in the world, so why was all the responsibility on them?  
One evening, Sam was standing on the small kitchen countertop, fixing the ceiling fan. Announcing that it was done, he sat down on the counter. Dean, standing on the floor, pulled Sam towards him by the hips and kissed his neck. Sam laughed, pushing at Dean.  
"Hello, Dean. Sam."  
They both froze. Dean leapt away from Sam, who quickly got off the countertop. Castiel was standing watching them with an expression of distaste. Dean swallowed.  
"Cas?" he asked slowly.  
"I was just making sure you were alright. I could sense your emotions were heightened, but it turned out …" He frowned as he looked across at a flushed Sam. "… it was not from fear."  
Dean looked between Sam and Castiel.  
"Cas, don't worry about it," Dean said hastily. Castiel fixed him with a slightly imploring expression before he was gone with a flap of his wings. Sam looked at Dean, abashed.  
"What do you think he'll do?" he asked in a worried tone. Dean shrugged.  
"Hopefully he won't bother us again, since he knows now."  
Dean smiled as he put his arms around Sam. "Anyway, we have some unfinished business, but I'm not kissing your crusty mouth again until you've used your goddamn Chapstick."  
*  
Dean was bored. It was late at night. Sam was out buying groceries. He'd taken his laptop so Dean couldn't use it, so Dean was occupying himself by playing a guitar he'd found in the motel room's closet.  
The fan above Dean began sputtering and clicking until it stopped turning. Sighing, he knew they would have to fix it again. He heard footsteps behind him.  
"Oh, good, you're back. The fan's just broken again."  
"Dean, I need to talk to you."  
Dean jumped up and turned around, putting the guitar down.  
"Cas?" he asked. The angel looked at him with a steady gaze.  
"We don't have much time. I need you to answers these questions as honestly and as quickly as possible."  
"Um. Okay."  
"What are you doing towards Lucifer?"  
"We're doing research. There isn't much on him, Cas, we're doing all we can."  
"Have you found his location?"  
"We're not sure."  
"What are your feelings towards Sam Winchester?"  
Dean was caught off guard by the sudden prying question. Castiel's face was deadpan, but there was a tight look around his eyes, like restrained anger. Or jealousy.  
"How does this relate?" Dean asked. Castiel repeated the question more urgently. Dean sighed. "Nothing, Cas, it's just Sam-"  
"Forgive me if I do not believe you, Dean, but I understand humans enough to recognize most emotions. I can see how you look at each other and the way you looked guilty when you were caught."  
Castiel stepped closer. "If being with your brother is wrong and makes you feel guilty, then surely you should not do it?"  
"Cas, are you jealous?" Dean demanded incredulously. He couldn't believe it - the scruffy, trenchcoat wearing angel was jealous of him and Sam. Dean felt slightly guilty but also annoyed. Castiel fixed him with stare before he disappeared.  
"Son of a bitch," Dean muttered. He looked at, hearing the motel room door open. Sam walked into the lit room from the dark outdoors. He dropped a bag of groceries onto the kitchenette countertop. Dean grabbed the guitar again.  
"Sit down, Sammy. I want to play you something."  
"You can play guitar?"  
"Yes."  
"I didn't know."  
"There are a lot of things about me you don't know," Dean said with a grin. He sat on his bed, opposite Sam. His smile faded into a content neutral expression. He began to play the guitar. Sam watched Dean's hands, entranced by the movement and the music, loving everything from the soft squeak of the fretboard to the melody itself. After around a minute, the song ended, and Dean looked at his brother.  
"Love Song by Tesla," he explained, answering Sam's unspoken question. Sam raised his eyebrows, smiling in awe.  
"Wow. Wow, Dean. That was amazing. I've never been serenaded so well before."  
"You've been serenaded before?"  
"Yeah. It sucked. It was at Stanford. A guy was dared to serenade me. I'd never seen Jess laugh so hard at something."  
Dean chuckled. He began to absently play another tune that Sam recognized.  
"Stairway to Heaven?" he asked.  
"Stairway to Heaven," Dean confirmed, before fixing Sam with a hopeful gaze. "Sing for me, Sammy."  
"I can't sing."  
"I've got memories that say otherwise."  
"Dean …"  
"Do it for me, Sam. Please."  
Sam sighed. Dean began to sing in his gentle, husky voice, encouraging Sam to sing too. Dean felt his heart thump as Sam hesitantly joined in, his voice quiet but steady. Dean nodded at him.  
"See, told you that you can sing," he said, smiling. To his disappointment, Sam looked embarrassed and stopped singing. Dean stopped playing the guitar and put it aside. He moved off his bed and sat down next to his brother.  
"Hey, being able to sing well is nothing to be embarrassed about."  
Sam shook his head, but he was smiling slightly. Dean pointed at his lips and said, "hey, you used the Chapstick!"  
Sam laughed. Dean carefully pushed a curl of Sam's fringe behind his ear. Sam turned to face him. He shook his head again.  
"Where would I be without you?" he asked, smiling. Dean smiled back.  
"You'd be lost," he said before leaning in to kiss Sam. He felt the warmth of his brother's breath before noticing Sam's eyes flick up, looking past him-  
There was sudden rush of cold night air and Dean found himself standing alone in an unfamiliar barn, a lantern beside him.  
"What the hell?" Dean muttered, looking around. He saw a familiar trench coat and his heart stopped.  
"Cas, what have you done?"  
"Relax, Dean. I have merely transported you away from danger."  
"Danger? I was with Sam-"  
"Exactly my point."  
"Cas, what the hell are you talking about?"  
"I sensed it. Your emotions were rising and along with them, your desire for more."  
"More?"  
"Dean, please don't lie. I can tell that you want more of Sam."  
Dean swallowed slowly. He faced the angel with clenched fists by his sides.  
"Take me back."  
"Only if you promise me, Dean."  
"Promise you what?"  
"That you'll think about how your feelings for your brother are wrong.  
Dean sighed. He reluctantly nodded and was suddenly back in the motel room, an inch away from Sam, as if the whole transporting ordeal hadn't occurred. Dean pulled away and looked at Sam before taking his brother's face in his hands.  
"Sammy, I love you."  
Sam, who had looked surprised at Dean for stopping the kiss, gave an embarrassed smile again. He put one of his hands on one of Dean's.  
"I love you too, Dean."  
Hours passed. Sam was lying next to Dean, asleep. Awake, the older Winchester went over his conversation with Castiel in his head. He sighed before looking over at Sam. Sam was sleeping with his back to Dean. Shuffling in, Dean wrapped his arms around his brother and pulled him so that they fit together. Sam's eyes cracked open.  
"What are you doing?" he mumbled sleepily.  
"Being the big spoon," Dean answered, nuzzling his nose into Sam's hair.  
"Dude, I'm taller than you," Sam said, but he didn't move. Dean smiled into his brother's hair.  
"Yeah, well, I'm stronger."  
"You wish."  
They both fell silent. Then Sam spoke, his voice suspicious.  
"What are you doing?"  
"Can it, Sammy," Dean said, eyes closed. He inhaled slowly, feeling Sam's hair tickle his face. "Smells nice."  
"What?"  
"Your hair. S'like vanilla. It's really strong, I'm not surprised Bobby could smell it."  
"I'll change my shampoo."  
"No, don't, I like it."  
Dean knew that if he died now - with his arms wrapped around Sam, breathing in his sweetness - he would be content.  
"You're mine, Sammy," he whispered, before realizing he'd spoken out loud. He waited for Sam's reply. When Sam eventually spoke, it cause Dean's heart to flutter.  
"I'm yours, Dean."  
They fell silent again. Dean began to softly hum the intro of Wind Of Change by The Scorpions, like a lullaby. He was surprised when he stopped humming and Sam started singing quietly, his voice lilting as he sang the first verse. He stopped after the second 'wind of change' line.  
"You should sing more, Sammy," Dean smiled, eyes closed. No reply. He lifted his head. Using a hand, he gently brushed Sam's hair out of his eyes. His brother was asleep.  
It was then that Dean felt eyes on him. He looked round to see Castiel, standing in the darkness. Dean unwrapped his arms from around Sam and sat up. He squinted at the angel.  
"Cas?"  
"Dean."  
"What are you doing?"  
"I see that you didn't heed my suggestion."  
"Cas, it's just pillow talk."  
"This isn't right, Dean. Humans experience love, yes. But that is between people without relations. You and Sam are brothers."  
"Don't lecture me."  
"I want you to stop being like this towards Sam."  
"Who are you, my dad? No."  
"No?"  
"No, Cas. Give up on all this-" Dean gestured at Sam- "so your jealous ass can be happy?"  
"Dean, please."  
"I mean it, Castiel. Sam and I are happy. Can't you let us have that?"  
"Dean, I forbid you from being intimate with Sam."  
"You can't do that!"  
The angel didn't reply. Dean blinked and Castiel was gone with a flapping of his wings. 

It was evening. The two had spent the morning researching possible cases. Sam and Dean returned from their short trip to the mall. They had checked out a new coffee shop and Sam had bought a book with information on all the states, saying it'd be useful for when they traveled.  
Dean was watching Sam from across the room. Castiel's words echoed in his head.  
Telling him how he wanted more, but forbidding him from being intimate with Sam.  
Dean felt an overwhelming urge to ravish Sam right there and then, but he knew he had to control himself. Sam probably didn't want that.  
"Well, I'm going to bed," Sam announced, closing his laptop and smiling at Dean. Completely unaware of the turmoil inside Dean's mind.  
It wasn't Castiel's voice flashing into Dean's mind this time. It was John's. A memory Dean had pushed away.  
"You're no son of mine!" his father roared inside his head. Dean remembered the hand striking him, feeling the ghost of an old bruise on his jaw. Saw the hate in his father's eyes again as he lay crumpled on the floor, twenty six again. That was a week before Dad went missing.  
Dean stood up so fast that he knocked his chair over. Sam looked up in alarm.  
"Dean, what are you-"  
Dean crossed the room to Sam before his brother had registered him moving. Dean's hands found Sam's and he pushed Sam against the wall, holding his wrists tight down by their sides.  
"Dean, not today," Sam said, pushing back, trying to get his hands out of Dean's vicelike grip.  
"I'm sorry, Sammy," Dean said, looking at his brother. "I just want you so badly, but there isn't a day that goes by when I don't hear Dad's voice in my head … telling me about how sick I am. Telling me how I don't deserve to be his son."  
"Hey, hey," Sam said softly, freeing his hands and taking Dean's head in his gentle grip. "It's okay. Forget him. He didn't understand us."  
Sam hugged his brother's head to his chest as Dean's breathing slowed. The pain in his heart faded and along with it, John's voice.  
"Thank you, Sammy," Dean whispered, eyes closed, feeling Sam's breathing. He could hear his brother's heartbeat, so delicate. Like a caged bird.  
"Sing for me, Sammy."  
"Sing what?"  
"Anything."  
Sam was quiet for a moment before he began to sing in his soft voice.  
"I'll use you as a warning sign, that if you talk enough sense then you'll lose your mind … And I'll use you as a focal point, so I don't lose sight of what I want … I've moved further than I thought I could, but I miss you more than I thought I would … And I'll use you as a warning sign, that if you talk enough sense then you'll lose your mind …"  
Sam's voice shook as he sang to Dean.  
"And I found love where it wasn't supposed to be, right in front of me. Talk some sense to me … And I found love where it wasn't supposed to be, right in front of me. Talk some sense to me …"  
Sam trailed off and Dean pulled back from the embrace. He saw the emotion in Sam's eyes.  
"Don't ever let Dad get to you, Dean," he said, his eyes pleading. Dean smiled sadly before he kissed Sam. He wrapped his arms around his brother and pulled him onto his bed.


	5. I Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean wakes up after a night with Sam, except last night was ... different. And they aren't the only ones that know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy the 'last night' references.  
> Enjoy Sam getting the giggles during the PDAs.  
> Enjoy the whole 'what I love about you' conversation.  
> I hope you enjoy everything bc this ship is my frigging ocean liner. 
> 
> Also, idk how much longer this can continue cause I'm kinda running out of ideas. Maybe another chapter or two. 
> 
> More angst is planned. Also a cute guitar scene (which, if you find it hard to picture, imagine Alana and Hannibal playing the instrument. That's how Sam and Dean are kind of sitting in that scene). 
> 
> More angst is definitely gonna happen so prepare your feels. Can't say whether this ends on a happy or sad note but, knowing me, it's not gonna be the happiest. You'll just have to wait and see!
> 
> Enjoy ^^
> 
> (Sorry if there are any inaccuracies with the state distances!)

Chapter 5

Dean awoke in a grassy field. The only light was the glow of the evening sun. His watch told him that it was four p.m. He'd fallen asleep with Sam the night before. When he stood up, he saw Castiel.  
"Why am I here?" Dean demanded.  
The angel's blue eyes were bright with bitterness and jealousy as he replied, "You know exactly why."  
"What?" Dean asked, genuinely confused.  
"Dean, you've done something very bad!" Castiel said angrily, so fiercely that Dean took a step back. He started feeling worried.  
"Whoa, we can work this out. What did I do that was so bad?"  
"You know what you've done, Dean. Even humans like you would know what you've done is wrong."  
"Cas, listen to me-"  
"So you deny sleeping with your brother?"  
Dean fell very still. The truthfulness of Castiel's acidic accusation struck him.  
"Look, Cas, I-"  
"No more excuses!" Castiel cut in. He didn't even have to shout to silence Dean. The angel was angrier than Dean had ever seen him. When Castiel spoke again, his voice was steady.  
"Do you deny sleeping with Sam Winchester?"  
"No."  
The look in Castiel's eye at Dean's reply was something Dean couldn't discern, whether it was envy or hatred, he didn't know. He didn't want to know. He edged back as Castiel took a dangerous step closer.  
"Tell me, Dean," he asked, his voice quiet and angry, "what was going through your mind? Did you think of how wrong it was, to not only be in a bed with your brother, but also to be close to him in that way?"  
"Stop."  
"Did you think it was a mistake; did you feel regret like you felt his skin against yours?"  
"Stop it, Cas-"  
"Were you even thinking about who he was as you touched him?"  
"Goddammit, Cas, stop!"  
"No! Dean, you were vessel of Michael. Now you are tarnished, no longer pure enough."  
"So, what, all those one night stands never counted? Why only Sam?"  
"Because they were acceptable. Sam is your brother, Dean. That changes this completely."  
Castiel looked at Dean with disgust in his eyes.  
"You have lost your status as an archangel's vessel. Not only that, but you defiled your brother. He was the vessel of Lucifer himself. Look at what you've done."  
"Castiel, you listen to me right now," Dean growled, grabbing the angel by the coat lapels. "I don't care about Heaven's petty squabbles. Who knows if the Devil has found a vessel yet? I'm not Michael's vessel anymore, and Sam isn't Lucifer's, so you'd better get looking fast for your substitutes. But let me tell you this: I am never going to let a single feathered bastard come between me and my brother."  
Dean let go of Castiel. The angel looked at him without replying. He lifted his chin up, regarding Dean with narrowed eyes.  
"As you wish. You will no longer be contacted by us. But anything Lucifer does is on your hands."  
With that, the angel was gone. Dean turned in a circle. He had no idea where he was. It definitely wasn't Iowa. Seeing buildings in the distance, he began the long walk. As Dean walked, he discovered he had nothing on him. No phone or keys. He was relieved to find that he had his wallet, as it never left his pocket. He'd need money for a motel room.  
It took him a half hour to reach the town. As Dean wandered the darkening streets, he wondered if Sam had noticed his disappearance. He must have been missing for almost a day.  
Sam would have woken after … 'last night'. He would have found Dean gone. The whole day, Sam could have been wandering around, searching for Dean. And the whole time, Castiel had Dean.  
Dean sighed. He needed to get to a phone, check on his brother. A buzzing neon sign caught Dean's attention, announcing that there were vacancies. He went immediately to the motel.  
"Hi there," the woman behind the desk greeted, smiling. Dean booked a room with his Mastercard. While the woman was finding his key, the older Winchester glanced at the motel details on a leaflet. It told him the state: Michigan.  
He was hours away from Sam.  
Dean took the keys with a soft 'thanks' before making his way to his room. He quickly locked the door behind him and picked up the phone in the room, dialling Sam's mobile. Dean waited as the dial tone drew on.  
"Come on, Sammy, pick up-"  
"Hello?"  
"It's me, Sammy."  
"Dean?"  
"The one and only."  
"Thank god. I woke up and you were gone."  
"Cas took me."  
"Cas?"  
"I'm sorry, Sam. I should have told you."  
"Told me what?"  
"Cas appeared to me when you were away or asleep. Said we can't be together."  
"Why not?"  
"He's jealous. And after last night …"  
"After last night …?"  
"He said we're no longer pure enough to be the archangels' vessels. And the angels will never bother us again."  
"Do you regret it?"  
"Regret what?"  
"Last night."  
Silence.   
"Dean?"  
"I wouldn't change it for the world, Sammy."  
"… Where are you, Dean?"  
"Michigan."  
"Michigan?"  
"Yep. Cas zapped me far away."  
"I'm driving. Right now."  
"Sam, we're in different states-"  
"I don't care. Where in Michigan are you?  
"Milwaukee. Diamond Inn Motel."  
"Okay. I'm going out to the Impala now."  
"It's five right now. That's almost a six hour drive. You're crazy."  
"So what if I am?"  
Dean grinned and could sense Sam smiling too.  
"Not gonna lie, Sammy. I like crazy."  
Sam laughed before hanging up. Dean lay down on the motel room bed. Sam was willing to drive across states at this time to get to him. It brought a smile to Dean's face.  
Sam arrived just over five hours later. Waking up, Dean heard the familiar purr of the Impala's engine and he left his motel room, looking for it. The lights of the Impala washed over him and he knew Sam had seen him, as his brother pulled into the motel parking lot.  
Dean fast approached the Impala and when Sam got out of the car, the first thing Dean did was grab his brother by the waist and smoothly pull him into a kiss. Sam pushed Dean's face away in a teasing way.  
"Dude, we're in a public parking lot."  
"So?"  
"So, we could be seen."  
"And as I said before, so?" Dean answered, grinning as he pushed his brother until Sam was backed up against the Impala's door. Dean leaned in to kiss Sam again, who laughed and twisted away.  
"Dean, we're completely visible out here. It's only half ten at night, people will still be awake. At least us get to the motel room before you make last night happen again."  
"If you're not careful, it might," Dean replied, winking. Sam rolled his eyes but he was smiling. Dean swung his arm around Sam and they went to Dean's motel room. Sam had barely closed the door behind them when Dean was pushing him against the wall, lips finding Sam's.  
"Dean-"  
Sam tried to speak between each breath-stealing kiss, his hands pushing at his brother. "Dean, we can't do this-"  
"Why not?" Dean whispered, pulling away.  
"We need to get back to our motel room. We can't leave it in that state; if someone comes looking for us, they'll know about last night the second they walk in."  
"Jesus. We can't have that."  
Dean reached his hand into Sam's pocket, pulling out the Impala's keys. He waved them in Sam's face with a smile.  
"I'm driving."  
After telling the woman he was checking out, they were good to go. Sam got into the passenger seat and Dean slid into the familiar leather of his beloved car. He ran his hand along the dashboard.  
"Can't believe the angels separated us, Baby," he said before noticing Sam's sarcastic look. "What?"  
"Nothing," Sam said unconvincingly. Dean grinned.  
"You're just jealous."  
"No, I'm not," Sam snorted, elbowing his brother. With a whoop of joy, Dean set the Impala running and turned up the radio loud. They began their cruise back to Iowa.  
Halfway into the journey, Sam reached and turned the music down low. He turned to face Dean, whose eyes were on the road.  
"Dean?"  
"Yeah?"  
"Why do you really like me?"  
"Sammy, I love you."  
"Okay. Why do you love me?"  
"Because I do."  
"Oh."  
"What, you want reasons?"  
"Yes."  
"Man, where do I start? Everything about you … I love it all. I love the way your nose wrinkles when you're concentrating on something. I love the way you brush your hair behind your ear without even noticing. I love the way you sleep, the way you hold onto me even when you're not awake. How, when I wake up, you're there with me. I love the way you can still get pissed with me, because you're so cute when you're mad."  
"Really?"  
"It's true, Sam. I love the way you like it rough. I love the way your hair feels, the way it smells … and I love the taste of your mouth, Sammy."  
"Dean …"  
"I love the way that you say my name, like it was made for your voice. God, Sam, your voice. Anything that comes out of your mouth is heaven to my ears. Like last night … every breath. Every noise. Every time you said my name. I love every goddamn thing about you, Sammy."  
"Wow. That's … I don't know what to say."  
"What about you, then? Why do you like me?"  
"Honestly, Dean, I don't have as many reasons for why I love you. I just … do."  
"You just 'do'? What's that supposed to mean?"  
"I mean, sure, you have your little habits, but they're not why I love you. I think it's cause, when we were kids, you were the only one there for me. I've always looked up to you. You were my role model. The guy I wanted to be. The one I was closest to. But I never saw you in this way."  
"When did it change?"  
"When we were younger … remember the fireworks?"  
"How could I forget?"  
"That was when I first realized how I felt towards you. I think that, away from the rules, I could be me. I was myself. And seeing you under the light of the fireworks, it was like seeing you for the first time. On that day, I felt myself die a little inside, because we could never be together."  
"Well, that changed."  
"Yeah," Sam smiled. "That changed."  
A short while later, Dean slowed the Impala, pulling into a rest-stop. Sam looked over.  
"Hey, what are you-?"  
"Follow me," Dean said, opening his door and getting out of the Impala. Sam did the same, curious. They walked away from the car into an empty plain of grass, Sam following Dean. The moon shone down, and Dean stopped when they were at a safe distance from the car. He saw Sam standing there, waiting to listen to what he might have to say.  
No words could explain the sudden rush of love Dean felt that moment; he wrapped his arms around Sam's waist and pulled him into a fierce kiss. To his delight, Sam kissed back this time rather than pushing him away. They fell onto the grass and Dean slid his arms around Sam, holding him close. They fell quiet. Sam rested his head in the curve of Dean's neck.  
"I can't even tell you how much I love you," Dean whispered, closing his eyes. He felt Sam's cheek move as he smiled.  
"How about you actually start with 'I love you'?"  
"Smart-ass."  
"Hey, you-"  
Dean cut off Sam with another kiss, taking both his brother's words and breath away. He began to slide his hand down, but Sam caught his wrist.  
"Sammy-"  
"No, Dean. We can't do what happened last night here."  
"There's nobody around for miles!"  
"Still. It's three in the morning, and I'm tired. Plus there's always the chance someone could drive past, find the Impala, come looking for the owner."  
"Let me at least kiss you once more, then, you killjoy," Dean sighed, but he was grinning. Sam grinned too.  
"That's fine by me."  
They went back to Impala. Sam's lips were slightly chapped again, to Dean's amusement and Sam's irritation. The rest of the drive was in silence. Sam fell asleep for most of it, tired from his midnight drive.  
"Dean …" Sam mumbled.  
"What is it?" Dean asked, looking across. He was surprised to see that his brother was still asleep, his eyes closed and head resting against the window. A small smile crossed Dean's face before he looked back at the road.  
He reached the motel and gently shook Sam's arm.  
"Hey, Sammy."  
Sam's eyes cracked open. He let Dean practically carry him, half asleep, from the Impala. Dean laid Sam on the bed and his brother was mostly asleep, only lifting his head when Dean crawled in next to him. Sam smiled.  
"Goodnight, Dean."  
"Technically good morning, because it's four a.m."  
"I don't care what time it is."  
"Don't you go nocturnal on me."  
"Dean?"  
"Yeah?"  
"Shut up and sleep."


End file.
